


A Normal Saturday Evening

by Johnlock2708



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Job, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Idiots in Love, It went downhill from here, John has a date, John's date is a dumbass, M/M, Morning Kisses, Rimming, Romance, Sharing a Bed, Sherlock Is A Bit Not Good, Sherlock is Sherlock, Smut, a bit of angst, bottom!John, top!Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:48:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27212200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Johnlock2708/pseuds/Johnlock2708
Summary: A normal Saturday evening: John had a date, Sherlock had a plan. It went downhill from here.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 72
Kudos: 220
Collections: Sherlock Author Showcase 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first fic. I'm so excited and hope you'll enjoy it.
> 
> I'll be very happy about kudos and comments, they'll motivate me to write more stories. 
> 
> Many thanks to @Strange_Johnlock for all the encouraging words, you motivated me to keep going.
> 
> Thank you so much for beta-reading and the best compliment I've ever received @SherlockWatson_Holmes!

Saturday evening.

A normal Saturday evening at 221B Baker Street. 

John stood in his bedroom in front of the wardrobe trying to decide what to wear on his date. She was a nice woman he’d met at Tesco. Not special, but nice enough to have a date with, to be sure that his seduction skills were still working, and to avoid a boring night in the flat with Sherlock. 

He finally decided on dark blue jeans, a black button-down, and his favorite red cardigan. With a sigh, he closed the door of the wardrobe. 

“Why am I doing this again?” he muttered to himself, straightening up and pushing his shoulders back. 

I am too old for this. Why haven’t l met a woman for life yet? he thought as he slowly made his way downstairs, wiping a hand across his face. 

Lately, he had the uncomfortable feeling that everything in life was more difficult: The work at surgery, the commute to and from his job, the effort involved in getting a date… everything. 

Everything but the work with Sherlock. This work was different, different from everything he had known before. It was exciting, really exciting. The chase after criminals, sneaking through dark alleys, waiting for the final piece of evidence that leads to their arrest. That rush of adrenaline when they caught them. Even dealing with one of Sherlock’s moods and reassuring colleagues from the Yard when he’d insulted them again. The flip side of this work, however, was that everything else was a lot less exciting in comparison. Even a date. 

When he reached the landing, he turned towards the kitchen. 

As so often, Sherlock sat hunched over his microscope, showing no sign that he had even noticed John. Spread out over the table were several Petri dishes and body parts that John didn’t want to know the origins of. Maybe Sherlock had nicked some from the morgue again. John made a mental note to speak with Molly about it later and leaned against the door frame with a sigh.

“Sherlock?” 

Nothing. 

“Sherlock.” 

“Hm.” Sherlock blinked and calibrated the microscope settings. 

“Sherlock!”

“Yes, John.” Sherlock sighed. 

“Why didn’t you answer me the first time?” John growled. 

“I’m working, don’t you see that? I’m in the middle of an important experiment!” Sherlock finally looked up and turned to John, sitting on the edge of his chair, frowning. 

“You’re always in the middle of an important experiment, Sherlock.”

“Then why are you interrupting me?” Sherlock asked, slightly upset while giving John his ‘don’t be stupid’ look. 

John rolled his eyes. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m going to pick up Angie and take her out for dinner.” 

“I know. I always know.” Sherlock huffed and waved his left hand at John dismissively. 

John pressed two fingers to the bridge of his nose, closed his eyes in annoyance, “Sure…” and grabbed his green jacket on his way downstairs. 

The cool evening air felt good after the stifling air in the kitchen. What is Sherlock doing? John clenched and unclenched his right fist rhythmically as he walked down the street towards the restaurant where he planned to meet Angie. 

“Pull yourself together, Watson! You don’t even want to know what he’s doing with all these body parts!” he muttered to himself as he tried to push his thoughts of Sherlock and his experiments aside. But with each step, he took his mind kept wandering back to Sherlock and the mood he’d been in recently. What was that all about? Every time John did something without him, Sherlock began to act strangely. Not that Sherlock doesn’t usually act strangely, compared to other people, but there has been a noticeable amount of irritation and sulking lately.

It started when he complained about John having a beer with Lestrade. That in itself hadn’t worried John, it was normal for Sherlock to nag when he got bored, but the intensity had surprised him. 

“What are you doing, John?” Sherlock had asked, emphatically, while standing between John and the front door of the flat. 

“I’m out for a pint with Greg,” John replied calmly, as he pulled on his jacket. 

“Greg?” Sherlock had answered, frowning. 

“Yes, Greg Lestrade. We’ve wanted to go out for a pint for a long time, but we haven’t had the chance yet. Busy with cases, you know?” John smiled.

“Why him?” Sherlock took a step closer, arms crossed over his chest.

“He’s my friend, Sherlock, and I want to meet him, That’s all. Your friend too, by the way.” 

Sherlock had sniffed at that, walked over to the couch, and collapsed there sulking. John hadn’t given it much thought at the time, but these types of incidents increased, especially when he was going on a date. Sherlock had either tried to stop him or he had been offended and dismissive. 

When he arrived, Angie stood in front of the restaurant, already waiting. “Hi John!” she waved enthusiastically. 

“Hi Angie, how are you?” John greeted while putting on what he hoped was one of his most seductive smiles. 

John hadn’t been very lucky with his dates lately. Every time he had one, something happened. Either a case came up or he was interrupted by text messages from Sherlock.   
The cases weren’t the problem. The timing was bad, but John wanted to be there when Sherlock brought more criminals to justice. He was brilliant. Always one step ahead of everyone else, he missed no detail. And hunting criminals with Sherlock was far more exciting than trying to get a leg over. The text messages, however, were just annoying. At first, John had tried to ignore them, but that only led to Sherlock finally showing up at the restaurant. Even if John purposely hadn’t told him where he was going, Sherlock had known anyway. 

Now he was in front of this small but cozy-looking thai restaurant. With Angie. Angie wore a pink, tight-fitting dress and black stilettos and fake jewelry - a glittering bracelet and a matching necklace. A small, black handbag on a narrow, silver-colored chain completed the cheap look. At least she hadn’t put on an excessive amount of makeup. Is this really the woman I met at Tesco? John thought as he opened the door for her. Yesterday she had looked different: jeans, a simple top, and flat shoes. But now… A quick look at her butt made John think that perhaps she still was the right one to make him forget the stress of the past few days. 

After John left his jacket at the coatrack he led her to their table and let her sit down before he took a seat himself. A young and eager waiter brought the menus while John placed his phone on the table next to him. 

“What can I get you to drink?” he asked with a wink in Angie’s direction. 

“A coke!” Angie replied with a smile that showed that she was happy about so much attention. 

“What about you, Sir?” the waiter turned to John. 

“Yeah… Coke’s good.” John answered while scowling the waiter away. 

“Sooo… What’s your job, John?” Angie asked with a bright smile. 

“I’m a doctor at St. Barts, and sometimes I chase after criminals with my friend. Erm… my flatmate… he’s not my boyfriend or anything like that.”

“Oh, a real doctor!” exclaimed Angie happily, thankfully not noticing John’s stutter. “I’ve never had a date with a real doctor, and I - ”

The waiter interrupted the start of Angie’s torrent of speech by placing the drinks on the table with a mumbled, “Here you are.” 

After a moment of perusing the menu, they both ordered their food and Angie was about to continue talking when John’s phone vibrated. A text message appeared on the screen. 

(06:45 pm) Sherlock:   
It’s urgent! Come immediately! SH

With a sigh, John typed his answer. 

(06:46 pm) John:   
No. I told you, I’m on a date!

“Sorry, Angie, this is my flatmate. Ignoring him will only make things worse.” 

“What is this about hunting criminals you mentioned earlier?” Angie asked while sipping her coke. 

“Oh, it’s about my flatmate, New Scotland Yard, and London’s criminals. We’re called when the colleagues from Yard get stuck with a case.”

“So, you’re a police officer and a doctor?” she asked, slightly confused. 

“No, I’m only a doctor. But my flatmate is a consulting detective. The only one in the world. He invented the job.” 

“Ah, okay, so you’re his sidekick? He’s doing the work and you’re … there?” Angie grinned broadly. 

John scowled. This didn’t go the way he wanted. The moment he took a breath to answer, his phone vibrated again. 

(06:51 pm) Sherlock:   
Need your assistance. Now. SH 

John took a sip of his coke and typed his answer, pressing the keys harder than absolutely necessary. 

(06:51 pm) John:   
No!

The phone remained silent for the next few minutes and John took the chance to engage Angie in a lively conversation about her job (secretary in a ‘big company’) and hobbies (hula hoop and dancing). 

While the food was being served, John imagined that being that flexible could be very useful. Satisfied with this thought he picked up the fork and began to eat. 

During the meal, Angie kept talking happily. Mainly they talked about her Barbie doll collection, “I have collected at least 30 pieces. Four of them are definitely precious!”, while John tried to put on his most enraptured expression. That explains her outfit, John thought, trying not to let his mind wander too much. 

“Of course, I can’t walk around like an icon all the time, but with such a great date I had to make a special effort.” she babbled on. And THAT explains why she looked so different at Tesco’s… What would I give for a new case now? John sighed inwardly and hoped the boredom didn’t show on his face.

About halfway through the meal, the next message arrived. John quickly picked up the phone. Maybe he wasn’t doomed to have a dull evening after all. 

(07:32 pm) Sherlock:   
Where did you put the fire extinguisher? SH

John gasped for air and typed irritated on his phone. 

(07:32 pm) John:   
What have you done?

The answer came promptly. 

(07:32 pm) Sherlock:   
If you hear sirens and see a fire truck, it has nothing to do with me! SH

“Ooh, no no no!” John called out “That’s… ugh! No! Damn it!” he huffed.

Angie looked up, surprised by the sudden outburst.

“Sorry, I have to go. Sherlock might be burning down our flat right now,” said John in a deliberately calm tone as he got up. “I’ll be back later when I’ve sorted it all out, okay?”

“Errm… no.” answered Angie frowning, her voice getting louder, “This is the worst date I’ve ever had!” 

Of course, the waiter had to come over at that moment to ask if everything was okay. “No, nothing is okay! I’m being left here right now! He just can’t do that to me!” she complained in a tearful tone. 

“Okay, okay. Take this, I have to go!” John squeezed out between clenched teeth, took out his wallet, and pushed a more than the adequate sum of money into the waiter’s hand. 

With a sense of relief, he grabbed his jacket from the coat rack and rushed out of the restaurant toward 221B Baker Street.


	2. Chapter 2

Saturday evening. 

A normal, boring Saturday evening at 221B Baker Street. 

Sherlock was sitting in the kitchen, bent over his microscope. He was dressed in his favorite blue dressing gown, an old white t-shirt, and grey pajama pants, his bare feet resting on the bars of the kitchen chair. There were several Petri dishes and various body parts scattered on the table around him. 

To an outsider, it would have looked like Sherlock was deeply absorbed in his experiment. In reality, Sherlock was busy listening. He was intently listening in the direction of John’s bedroom. 

John had been up there for exactly 37 minutes choosing his clothes for his next date. Sherlock let out an annoyed sigh, rolled his shoulders, and tried to concentrate on his experiment again - and failed. 

Why couldn’t he concentrate properly? Why was he so annoyed? Usually, it was easy for Sherlock to concentrate on his experiments, but lately, he has been struggling with it. Every time he started an experiment, a thought got in the way. Not a random, boring thought, that he could just push aside. No. It was a complicated, intrusive thought that came up when he didn’t want it. He didn’t want it at all. 

Every single time it was the same thought. Every. Single. Time. Just ridiculous. Sherlock shook his head to get rid of it. And yet he no longer saw the kitchen table and his microscope in front of him but found himself in his mind palace. 

His mind palace was arranged and organized. Everything had its place. Mostly it was a small square, a shelf, a drawer. Really important topics could sometimes take up a room, but still only a small one. But now a single topic took up more than one room. 

John Watson. 

John Watson occupied not just one room in his mind palace, but three. If he had four rooms or more he would have to dedicate a whole wing to him. At first, he had gathered all the information about John. Height, weight, hair color, eye color, preferred clothing, his normal daily routine, and so on. Nothing unusual. Nothing he didn’t know about Lestrade or anyone else from the Yard. But then he started collecting more and more information about John. At first, he dismissed it as completely normal, since he lived with John in the same flat. But then it became more and more difficult to resist the urge to find out more details about John. Favorite tea, favorite shampoo, favorite pants (red!), the color of his skin in the sunlight, his scent… Especially John’s scent. His scent when he got up in the morning to make tea, not quite awake, his scent after a hard day at work, or his scent after a successful chase for a criminal, the rush of adrenaline... 

“Stop it!” Sherlock growled quietly to himself as he tried to silence his mind. Sighing, he concentrated on his experiment again. 

Just as he was fully focused, he heard John coming down the stairs. 

“Sherlock?” 

_ Just react normally. Just - don’t react stupidly! _

“Sherlock.”

“Hm.” Sherlock blinked and calibrated the microscope settings. 

“Sherlock!”

“Yes, John.” Sherlock sighed. _What_ _now?!_

“Why didn’t you answer me the first time?” John growled. 

“I’m working, don’t you see that? I’m in the middle of an important experiment!” Sherlock finally looked up and turned to John, sitting on the edge of his chair, frowning  _ Why is he interrupting me now? Now?! _

“You’re always in the middle of an important experiment, Sherlock.”

“Then why are you interrupting me?” Sherlock asked slightly upset while giving John his ‘don’t be stupid’ look. 

John rolled his eyes. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m going to pick up Angie and take her out for dinner.” 

“I know. I always know.” Sherlock huffed and waved his left hand at John dismissively.  _ Go away! I’m trying not to think about you! _

John pressed two fingers to the bridge of his nose, closed his eyes in annoyance, “Sure…” and grabbed his jacket on his way downstairs. 

Now, John was gone on one of his dates. One of those dates with tedious women. What did John even see in all of his girlfriends? Why go on a date at all when it’s always the same story over and over again? Chance encounters that led to dates with mindless women… None of these women were suitable for John, Sherlock could tell. Especially not the woman he picked up today. What was her name again? And then there was Lestrade, with whom John kept hanging out for a beer. Boring, ordinary beer. Why did John even have to meet other people? He could have been at home and Sherlock would keep him company. 

With one last look at his experiment, Sherlock gave up trying to focus on it. Instead, he walked slowly from the kitchen into the living room towards the windows. Standing in front of one window, he picked up his violin and played the first notes. With a soothed sigh, Sherlock let himself be carried away by the music. 

~~~~ 

Sherlock was playing Gustav Mahler’s 5th Symphony when Mrs.Hudson walked in. “Knock knock, hello boys?” she called out “Sherlock, what is this all about? Why do you play such sad music?” 

With a grunt, Sherlock lowered the bow and carefully set the violin aside. “Nothing to worry about, Mrs.Hudson. One of my experiments didn’t go as well as planned.” 

“But that’s no reason to play such music, dear.” Mrs.Hudson answered and stood behind him, hands on her hips, slightly frowning. “There’s something else on your mind.” 

“Nothing else, Mrs.Hudson,” Sherlock said as he looked out of the window to the street below him. There were people on their way home, or, like John, on the way to a date. A boring Saturday evening, as always. The thought stung Sherlock, but he couldn’t figure out why. 

Mrs.Hudson carefully placed a hand on Sherlock’s right arm. “What’s on your mind, dear? There’s more than just an experiment that didn’t go as planned. I may not be a genius like you, but I can see something is bothering you, Sherlock.” She tugged lightly on his arm and Sherlock turned to her. 

“It’s nothing really,” Sherlock answered with a sigh, eyes on the floor. 

“If you don’t want to tell me, it’s fine. Sometimes it helps if you sit down quietly to eat and drink something. I’ll make you tea and toast, that always helps. But only this time, I’m not your housekeeper!” With a wink, Mrs. Hudson turned and headed for the kitchen. Before she reached the kitchen, Sherlock snapped out of his stare, rushed across the living room, and grabbed her shoulders from behind. 

“Thank you, Mrs.Hudson, tea is an excellent idea! I’ll take care of it myself!” With that, Sherlock pushed her out of the flat and let the door slam shut. With tea and toast, he would be able to concentrate perfectly on his problem. As he filled the kettle and turned it on, he could hear Mrs.Hudson’s footsteps moving slowly away. 

The kettle clicked off and Sherlock started to prepare tea. He opened the refrigerator… no milk. No. Milk. With a growl, he closed the door and picked up his phone from the kitchen table. He quickly typed a message. 

(06:45 pm) Sherlock: 

_ It’s urgent! Come immediately! SH _

Pacing up and down he waited for the answer, the phone still in his hand. 

(06:46 pm) John: 

_ No. I told you, I’m on a date! _

Mid pacing Sherlock stopped. _Why_ _couldn’t_ _everything_ _be_ _easy_? Sherlock thought with a scowl. Everything had to be complicated. Always. Working with the people from the Yard, even Lestrade, getting along with Mycroft, dealing with annoying people outside the walls of 221B Baker Street. And now John… John and his _date_! Before his thoughts became even more unbearable, Sherlock typed another message. 

(06:51 pm) Sherlock: 

_ Need your assistance. Now. SH _

The answer came promptly. 

(06:51 pm) John: 

_ No! _

Why is he so stubborn? Why can’t he just come back and stay? Why does he need these other people, who are just slow and stupid anyway? _I can offer him so much more..._

Oh. 

_ John needs company. John’s not gay.  _

Those words rang out bitterly in Sherlock's head. John would actually need a woman to be satisfied. A woman would lead to John getting married at some point. He would be moving out of 221B Baker Street, starting a new life, leaving Sherlock behind, probably soon forgetting about him. 

A sting in his eyes made Sherlock look up from the floor again. He ran his hands through his hair, leaving the curls in a wild mess. Sherlock didn’t like the feeling that was spreading in his chest, it felt like something was jammed. He started pacing to calm his mind. _What do I have to do to keep John? I have to make life here as pleasant as possible for him. Unfortunately, that includes cleaning up after an experiment, but I can do it. And he needs company. A woman who likes him and doesn’t mind if we go for a chase after criminals._ “Yes, that’s it!” Sherlock exclaimed aloud and tossed the phone on the table. Now he had to keep John from unnecessary dates and find him the perfect woman. “Back to start then! Tea and toast it is. The plan has to be perfect!” Sherlock said aloud and took a sip of his now almost cold tea. With a disgusted grunt, he put the tea aside. Still no milk. Just toast then. With a deep sigh, Sherlock turned to the toaster, while relief ran through him. His plan was brilliant, brilliant, and easy to implement. 

The last time he’d used the toaster was for an experiment, but John had cleaned it in the meantime. Impatient as he was, Sherlock pushed the slice as deep as possible and switched the toaster on at the highest level. In no time the slice burned to ashes and the toaster caught fire. Maybe after his experiment, the power connection was no longer working properly. The flames were small and Sherlock smothered them with a kitchen towel. But with that, he wasn’t satisfied. He had read somewhere that an electronics fire could smolder and further attention was needed. 

With a deep sigh he waved the cloud of smoke aside with one hand he typed with the other: 

(07:32 pm) Sherlock: 

_ Where did you put the fire extinguisher? SH _

He had only just sent the message when John’s answer came. 

(07:32 pm) John: 

_ What have you done? _

If John answered so quickly, he couldn’t be particularly busy on his date and a thought crept into Sherlock’s head. What if he dramatized the situation a little more? John would come home to check that everything was okay. He typed quickly: 

(07:32 pm) Sherlock: 

_ If you hear sirens and see a fire truck, it has nothing to do with me! SH _

With that, he put the phone aside and sat down on the kitchen chair to watch the toaster closely. Despite everything, he didn’t want the toaster to catch fire again. He leaned back, a little smile on his face, and waited for John to come home. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes the angst... sort of.

As John ran towards Baker Street, his relief of escaping the boring date with Angie turned to worry and anger. What had Sherlock done that he needed a fire extinguisher for or even the firefighters? Was he hurt? 

A short time later, John arrived at Baker Street, practically gasping for breath, and threw open the front door. At least he couldn’t see an open fire and no smoke came out of the flat. The door slammed shut and John rushed up the 17 steps to the flat. 

“Sherlock! Sherlock, where are you?” John yelled, pushing through the front door of 221B. 

He stopped briefly in the living room to survey the situation. Quite the soldier, John stood in the middle of the room, legs apart and with wide eyes. “Sherlock, can you hear me?” he yelled again, looking around, before spotting him on one of the kitchen chairs. 

“I’m here.” John heard him say softly. Sherlock stood up with an elegance that shouldn’t be allowed when dressed in an old dressing gown and clutching a charred towel. 

John stared at him. Why did Sherlock seem so beautiful at this moment? Sherlock looked him straight in the eyes. Those blue-green and grey eyes… He snapped out of the stare, shook his head, and tried to clear his throat. “Where’s the fire? What happened, Sherlock?” he croaked, still on alert. 

“There is no fire, not anymore.” Sherlock blinked down at the towel, still in his hand. “I tried to make toast and the toaster caught fire. I extinguished it with the towel and then watched the toaster to be sure.” Suddenly he had the feeling that calling John home again hadn’t been such a good idea. A shiver ran down his spine. 

“Wha… Sherlock! What a complete dick you are! You knew that I had a date! A date, Sherlock. That’s what normal people do! Go out, have fun, and find the one person to be with for the rest of their lives!” John shouted. “Why are you doing this over and over again? Every time I have a date, you interfere with it! Why?” Standing in the middle of the living room, John glared at Sherlock, panting, both hands clenched to fists, the I-am-not-happy-at-all-smile on his face. 

Sherlock took a deep breath and looked up, hurt feelings clearly visible in his eyes. The first time he allowed John to see them. “You think I am not normal?” 

Startled by the intensity of the emotions he saw in Sherlock’s eyes, but still angry, John took a few steps towards him. He stretched out his right hand to Sherlock, but let it drop again, his left hand still clenched in a fist. His face suddenly looked less angry, but not relaxed, his eyebrows furrowed.

_ He doesn’t know.  _ This realization came as a bit of a shock to Sherlock.  _ He really doesn’t know what he means to me. He’s my friend, my only friend. And he doesn’t know.  _

“You really think I am not normal?” Sherlock repeated the question, while he tried to force his face into a mask of indifference. A protection he put in place years ago so that nobody could see how hurt he was. He straightened his back as far as possible and held his head up to look down at John. Protection from emotions was the best he could do now. Why did he think John would understand? He hadn’t even noticed how much he meant to him. 

He dropped the towel on the floor, took two steps forward, and crossed his arms over his chest. 

They were now facing each other in the kitchen. Sherlock stared down at John and John stood his ground. He’d never shied away from an argument, and he wasn’t about to start now. 

“Of course you’re not normal, Sherlock,” John replied grudgingly, his frustration visible on his face. “You - ” 

“So you are like everyone else!” Sherlock interrupted John angrily “You’re just like everyone else I’ve met so far. Everyone thinks that I am mad, unable to get along with other people, not  _ normal.”  _ He spat out the last word, threw his arms in the air, turned, and started pacing the kitchen. Sherlock’s face twisted in disgust, but something inside of him broke into many little pieces. 

John gasped, unable to understand what just happened. What was that all about? It was about the fact that Sherlock had interrupted him - again - on a date and he had been annoyed by it. But now he could feel that there was more than just an evening he wasn’t spending with Sherlock. Could it be that there was more? More than just the fact that Sherlock needed him when he was bored or working on a case? More than friendship? Could it be that easy? Not only married to his work? 

Suddenly all the small, loose pieces fell into their place and hope began to spread in his chest. How could he have overlooked it for months? All the moments when Sherlock tried to prevent him from going on a date, interrupted him in the middle of a date… 

“Sherlock.” he began “Sherlock, please stop!” but Sherlock was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t notice John’s words. 

With a deep sigh, John stood in his way and grabbed his arms tightly “Sherlock, listen to me!” and shook him to get his attention. 

“Why should I, John?” Sherlock replied hoarsely, rapidly blinking, looking on the floor. “You just told me - ” 

“No, Sherlock, stop! You interrupted me mid-sentence! Listen! Yes, I told you, you’re not normal as the rest of us, BECAUSE…” John raised his voice to stop Sherlock from interrupting him again “...you’re much smarter than us. You are the smartest person I know and you’re always one step ahead of us, you see so much more than we do. You are brilliant, Sherlock!” 

With a distinct sniff, Sherlock finally looked up from the floor, his gaze fixed on the wall next to the door. 

“Sherlock, you know I’m not good at talking about this, but I want you to know that I care about you,” John said with a slightly trembling voice as he gave Sherlock’s arms a reassuring squeeze. “I won’t leave you alone. You saved me when I didn’t know what to do next. If we didn’t solve cases together, I would still be sitting in my dreary room doing nothing. Or worse…” 

Finally, Sherlock looked at him. His eyes were slightly red and puffy, but the passion that was seen in them burned right into John’s heart. 

Oh. 

“Sherlock, I…” John began. “No, John. Don’t! You tell me that you won’t leave me, but at the very next moment, you’ll go on a date! And at some point, you will find a woman who meets your standards, with whom you want to start a family. You’ll move out and eventually forget about me.” 

With that, Sherlock freed his arms from John’s grip and turned away toward his bedroom. 

_ No No NO!  _ “Sherlock, please….” John said in a low voice and raised his right arm to keep him from walking away, but then let it drop again. “Please, don't go, Sherlock.” 

John stood in the kitchen, his head bowed, and closed his eyes. An unbelievable sadness flooded him and for a moment he thought he was choking on it. All lost. And that’s only because he hadn’t seen what was right in front of his eyes. All those superfluous dates he’d gone on when he could have spent his time with Sherlock. Maybe it could have turned into more than just friendship, if only he hadn’t been so keen on finding a wife. 

Just as he was about to pull himself up to go to his bedroom, to lick his wounds and feel sorry for himself, he felt a hand on his arm. Slowly he raised his head and opened his eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally... the smut! ;)

When John opened his eyes, Sherlock was standing in front of him, one hand on his arm. They looked at each other. John gave Sherlock a sad look while Sherlock looked at him with wide eyes. His head was tilted slightly to one side as if he hadn’t quite made up his mind what to do now. 

Later, John couldn’t have said when something had changed. There was a small movement, no more than a moment, and suddenly Sherlock crushed their mouths together.

Not slowly, not tenderly, as one might have expected from a first kiss, but like a storm that forcibly sought its way. Sherlock had grabbed John’s upper arms with both hands and was holding him there like a vice while his tongue began to explore John’s mouth. 

John let out a small whimper and a shiver ran down his spine. Usually, John was the one who took the lead, women liked that, but this time everything was different. This was Sherlock. John had never expected to be kissed by him like that, had never dared to dream about it. It felt wonderful, downright intoxicating. Everything inside him screamed for more. 

Sherlock broke the kiss before John had a chance to focus. Both stood in the kitchen, only touching where Sherlock pressed his hands to John’s upper arms. Their gazes met. John panted a little breathlessly, trying to understand what had just happened. 

Sherlock didn’t expect it to happen like that. But John was not a genius like him, he had never drawn the right conclusions from Sherlock’s actions. So Sherlock had to show him. 

Sherlock saw surprise, amazement, confusion, but also a mixture of joy and fear in John’s eyes. 

“John,” he said carefully. 

John took a shaky breath and blinked. 

“Sherlock.” His mouth was slightly open, his cheeks were covered with a slight blush, and he tried to say more, but the words couldn’t come out. 

All the thoughts that tried to go through John’s head at the same time, the lingering feeling of Sherlock’s lips on his, the tongue in his mouth as Sherlock playfully explored the new surroundings.  _ Is it really like that? Is it that easy? Why didn’t I see it the whole time?  _

“John.” Sherlock’s voice interrupted John’s thoughts. “Don’t hurt yourself by thinking too hard.” And with that, Sherlock took a step forward, closed the gap between their bodies, and wrapped his arms around him.

John melted against Sherlock’s body and leaned his face into his t-shirt. 

“Sherlock, what just happened?” he mumbled into the crook of Sherlock’s neck while inhaling carefully and taking in Sherlock’s scent. He smelled of expensive shower gel, burned toast, a hint of tea, and something that was all Sherlock. Like home. 

Startled, John tried to break free from the embrace. “We can’t… you are…” he began to stutter “I can’t do this, Sherlock. You… don’t do this… You… We... “ With a self-annoyed huff, John took a step back to look Sherlock straight in the eyes. 

Taking a deep breath, John started again. “I can’t do this, Sherlock. I want to, but I can’t.” He gestured vaguely with his hands in the gap between them. “You are my best friend. I can’t risk losing this, losing you. You are married to your work, I know that. I don’t want to lose you because you want to do this just for me.” 

Sherlock stood still in the kitchen and looked at John. “John, you see but you don’t observe. How do you manage to get the wrong conclusions over and over again? Even after what we just did?” A small twitch at the corner of Sherlock's mouth showed his amusement but also some uncertainty. “I  _ was _ married to my work, yes. Then you shot the cabbie for me and were by my side whenever I needed you. But you were always so busy looking for a new girlfriend that I didn’t want to show you my feelings. I didn’t want to be rejected. Alone protects me, it always has.” Now Sherlock looked serious. “But as time went on, I couldn't stand it that you were wasting your time finding the next girlfriend and the next girlfriend. I tried to stop you, but that only made you angry.” John nodded silently with a gritted expression. “Today I came up with a plan that I wanted to start implementing, but then you got so angry and called me  _ not normal _ ...and I wanted to leave… but you looked so sad... ” Sherlock’s voice trailed off and he looked down again. 

“So you just tried to show me your feelings?” John asked. 

“Yes.”

“Sherlock, I don’t know what to say. I’m a complete dick. I only saw how you disrupted my dates and pissed off my girlfriends. I never dared to think that it might be more than just your boredom that made you do it. I’m so sorry.” John raised his left hand and grabbed Sherlock’s with it. He slowly ran his thumb over the back of the hand. He looked down to the joined hands, how natural it felt to hold Sherlock’s hand. “Sherlock, what if you get bored of me?” John asked quietly. 

“I never get bored of you John. You are the biggest mystery I’ve come across so far.” Sherlock smirked a bit and looked up. 

“Are you sure?” John looked at Sherlock with a slight frown. 

“Yes John, I’m sure.”

“So… You want this? … Us?” John's eyebrows raised questioningly. 

“Yes.” 

“You really want…”

“Don’t be stupid John! Don’t ask me the same question over and over again! You know how much I hate to repeat myself.” Sherlock interrupted. 

“Then… I can't persuade you to repeat something else…? John said teasingly but chuckled nervously. 

Oh.

"You've done this before John, don't be nervous," Sherlock said reassuringly, but with a sly smile.

"Yeah, but not with you." John answered, looking unsure "You're so important to me.”

“We’re perfect for each other, and you know that, John. Even if you didn’t want to openly admit it until now.” Sherlock’s voice dropped an octave. 

Emboldened, John shifted closer, close enough to slide his right hand under Sherlock’s dressing gown, and carefully placed it on his waist.

“You’re overdressed.” Sherlock murmured and began tugging at John’s jacket. John stripped out of it and tossed it carelessly on the floor. Sherlock’s hand moved behind his neck, bringing their mouths together. John parted his lips and was rewarded with a low groan from Sherlock. His tongue swirled into John’s mouth and began to catalogue it. John’s last connected thought was that he would like to save that kiss in a mind palace like Sherlock could before Sherlock took his breath away. Breathing was overrated anyway. 

Sherlock pushed him back, never breaking the kiss, and after a few short steps, John’s head hit the wall with a thump. Sherlock’s left hand was under his ear while his thumb brushed over the cheekbone and his right hand pressed John firmly against the wall. 

Arousal flooded John and he gasped for air. His hands moved up Sherlock’s arms to his shoulders and he pulled on the dressing gown. “Patience, John.” Sherlock rumbled, “I’m going to take care of you.” which made John’s cock twitch in anticipation. 

Sherlock opened John’s shirt buttons one by one, so slowly John wanted to rip them off to speed up the process. Instead, he stayed still, letting Sherlock take the time with whatever he was planning to do. 

“Sher…” John began, his voice rough from arousal. “Hush!” Sherlock interrupted him as he pulled John’s shirt out of his jeans and opened the last button.

John leaned against the wall, his face flushed with the effort not to move, his hands twitching. Sherlock pulled down the left corner of John’s shirt and kissed his way from the jaw down his neck to the star-shaped gunshot wound.

Sherlock’s tongue moved carefully over and around the scarred area. It tickled a bit and John couldn’t quite suppress a giggle. The giggle quickly turned into a moan as Sherlock licked and nibbled his way down to his nipples. He slowly pulled his tongue over the first rosy bud and circled it. John groaned louder and goosebumps spread all over his body. His cock was hard and his trousers tented. 

“So sensitive,” Sherlock noted and gently bit the second nipple. 

“Oh God, Sherlock, please!” John huffed and his legs twitched as if they were about to give way under him. 

“You like it,” Sherlock replied and blew gently over the damp spot. 

“Yes.” John hissed “But I need more… I need you.” 

John’s breath came in short gasps and he began to pull on his belt. Sherlock slapped his hand aside with a pat. 

“For God’s sake, Sherlock, I’m getting blue balls here! Do something!” John whined and tried to hold on to Sherlock and rut against him to get some friction. 

“Mmmmm…” Sherlock growled, knelt down, and set to work on John’s trousers. With a grin he unbuckled the belt and pulled it out of the loops, button and zipper came next. John groaned in relief when the pressure on his cock finally eased. The jeans hit the floor with a thud and he kicked them aside. His erect cock was now clearly visible through the fabric of his pants, as was the damp patch on the tip.

Sherlock couldn’t look away, that was what he had longed for. Finally, he got the chance to see John up close, and not just secretly from a distance, as he came out of the bathroom after a shower. John was bigger than average, just as Sherlock had expected based on his observations. Hastily he stowed this picture away in his mind palace for later viewing and pressed his hand on the prominent bulge.

John’s legs went weak and he moaned again, desperate for more friction. “Gggnnnnhh” 

“John, you don’t know what you’re doing to me.” Sherlock croaked, his voice full of arousal. With one smooth motion, he pulled the pants down a bit and licked a stripe up John’s dick. It felt amazing. 

The smell, the taste, the feeling of his tongue on velvety skin, all of it swirled around in Sherlock's head. Sherlock groaned into John's skin and licked again. The drop of precome on the tip tasted bitter at first, but Sherlock couldn’t imagine a better taste. 

“Fuck! Oh, fuuuuck!” John cursed and put a hand on Sherlock´s curls. Sherlock nuzzled the base of John´s cock and licked his balls while he pinned him against the wall with both hands on his pelvis. John thrust forward unintentionally and pulled on his hair. 

Encouraged, Sherlock took John’s glans into his mouth and swirled his tongue around, then swallowed him down until his nose hit the well-trimmed pubic hair. He bobbed his head up and down a few times as he hollowed his cheeks and sucked. 

“You’ll be the death of me… so close” John slurred, his hands tugging on Sherlock’s hair. His eyes shut tight and his breath came in short gulps as if he tried to prevent the impossible. 

Sherlock didn’t intend that it was all over so soon. He squeezed the base of John’s cock to keep him from coming and pulled off with a wet plop. “I’m not done yet, John.” Sherlock purred as he got up again. 

John glanced at him with glassy eyes and pulled his head down into an intoxicating kiss. Their tongues met and Sherlock’s chest was filled with bliss, pure, and simple bliss. At this moment there was nothing better than kissing John Watson. His John. 

John felt like he was floating. He was just on his way back from a date to check if his flatmate had burned down the flat, and now he was kissed senseless by said flatmate. Better still, he was now aware of Sherlock’s and his feelings for one another. It couldn’t be better. 

The kiss continued and John ran his hands over Sherlock’s body. From the nape of his neck into his beautiful messy curls and down his back to squeeze his bud firmly with both hands. A happy sigh escaped him as he pressed their bodies tightly together and felt Sherlock’s hard cock against his stomach. 

John squirmed to get better access and pushed his hands toward the gap between the shirt and the pajama pants. He gently stroked the small strip of skin and hooked one thumb into the waistband. “You’re overdressed.” Before he could continue, Sherlock grabbed his hands and pinned them over John’s head. “I said, I’m not done yet.” Another shiver ran through John and he trembled with anticipation.

Suddenly Sherlock let go of his hands, grabbed John by his shoulders, and pulled him towards the counter. John stumbled over, not sure his legs would carry him properly. Over there, Sherlock swept everything aside, one mug even fell and broke on the floor with a loud bang. 

After a very thorough kiss that left both of them breathless, Sherlock bent John down and pressed his upper body onto the countertop. He pulled John’s pants over his butt and knelt behind him in one smooth motion. 

“Wha-Aaaah!” John yelped. 

Sherlock had spread his arse cheeks and licked over John’s hole. John tried to wiggle away but Sherlock held him in place. “Sherlock, what do you… Ouh!” John began but Sherlock slapped him right on the arse cheek. It didn’t hurt but it stung and warmth spread over the area. It felt amazing. “Don’t move, John!” Sherlock commanded firmly. 

John grabbed the first thing that was left on the counter, a towel, and gripped it tightly with both hands. He panted into it and braced for the next impact. The next slap hit the other arse cheek and John wiggled to get more. 

But Sherlock had other plans. “Hold still,” he growled and licked a stripe from John’s balls to his hole. He licked around it and John tried not to squirm against Sherlock’s face. The feeling was indescribable, exciting, and filthy, but somehow calming at the same time. It was something no one had ever done to John before. 

Sherlock kissed John’s rim then pushed his tongue in. And John’s head went blank. He bit into the towel desperately to muffle his cries of absolute arousal. Sweat ran down his forehead and neck. 

“Don’t stop, please, don’t stop!” he whimpered, and Sherlock tongued and sucked John until he was a sweaty trembling mess. 

“Sherlock.” John groaned “I need you. I need you so bad.” 

“You’re sure?” Sherlock answered, stood up, and wiped his mouth. 

“I’m sure. I’ve never been so sure about anything as I’m now. I know you’re clean, and so am I. Please, Sherlock.” John begged. 

Sherlock leaned over and rumbled through the headboards. After a quick search, he grabbed a bottle of oil and poured a generous amount of it onto his fingers. “That must be enough for now,” he mumbled and ran an oiled finger over John’s hole. 

John was already relaxed and the first finger slipped in without resistance. “Gggnnh! More, please!” he gasped and the second finger followed. John moaned and pushed his arse back. This caused Sherlock’s finger to slide deeper, brushing his prostate, “Oh God…” and a large drop of precome dripped from John’s cock onto the floor. 

Sherlock began to spread his fingers carefully to relax John further and added another one. 

John moaned and sighed in satisfaction as Sherlock’s fingers kept finding the right spot. 

“Sherlock, I’m not fragile! Come on!” John snapped breathlessly. 

Sherlock pulled his pajama pants down to his thighs, coated his cock with oil and lined up, “Take a deep breath for me, John.” and breached the tight ring of muscles. Only the tip was inside and he gave John time to adjust. John took his time, breathing slowly in and out, but soon he began to squirm and pressed against Sherlock. “I’m ready.” 

Sherlock pushed himself further into John and groaned at the amazing feeling. Sweat slowly ran down his spine as he tried to hold back. 

“Fuck!” John bit his lower lip “Sherlock please, fuck me already!” 

“As you wish.” Sherlock moaned and let his hips snap, pushing himself completely into John. 

John rolled his hips and both groaned in unison. Sherlock pulled out slightly and pushed back in. Once, twice… 

“Sherlock!” John braced himself against the tiles and tried to start a faster rhythm. “So eager.” Sherlock chuckled, gripped John’s hips tight, and started thrusting in earnest. 

After a few thrusts, he hit John’s prostate and John cried out. Another drop of precome dripped onto the floor. 

John arched his back “Sherlock… God… I’m so close.” and pressed into Sherlock, encouraging him to thrust harder and faster. 

Sherlock reached around John and grabbed his throbbing cock to stroke him merciless. 

“Come for me, John, come for me!” and with that command, John was done and came so hard he saw stars. Hot semen splashed against the kitchen in several thick threads. Sherlock stroked him through his powerful orgasm before chasing his own climax again. 

“Jooohn!” Sherlock shouted after a few more thrusts as his semen filled John. He nearly felled onto John and breathed heavily on the back of his neck. 

After he had recovered a little Sherlock carefully pulled out and reached for the towel that John was still holding tightly. “Let go, John,” he said and caressed John’s back affectionately. 

John slowly straightened up and turned to Sherlock. The expression on his face showed joy, contentment, and something Sherlock had hoped for but not expected. He carefully wiped John clean, sorted his remaining clothes, and tugged on one of his hands. “Would you like to come with me?” he asked hesitantly. Having sex in the kitchen was one thing, but asking John if he wanted to come with him and sleep in bed together was another entirely. 

John smiled tiredly and took Sherlock’s hand to pull him towards his bedroom. “Yes, I would love to share a bed with you.” 

They fell into Sherlock’s large and comfortable bed and John pulled the covers over both of them. Sherlock wrapped himself around John like an octopus and sighed happily into the crook of his neck. He felt John kiss him on the forehead before falling asleep. 


	5. Epilogue

Despite little sleep, John and Sherlock woke up early in the morning. The day had barely started and there was still hardly any daylight coming through the curtains into the bedroom. 

John wasn’t sure what exactly had woken him. Both weren’t used to sharing a bed but hadn’t moved far from each other during sleep and John fully woke when he tried to turn around and one of his arms was blocked by a weight. He yawned profusely and rubbed his eyes with one hand. After that, he blinked over to Sherlock. Sherlock was curled up halfway on John’s arm and had their fingers intertwined. John gently pulled on his arm and tried to free himself but Sherlock tightened the grip and mumbled something unintelligible into his pillow. 

“Good morning, love.” John greeted and kissed Sherlock on top of the curly mess, “I know you’re awake.” 

Sherlock blinked in surprise and peeked out of the pillow with one eye. No one had ever called him ‘love’. The warm feeling in his chest was new but welcome.

“Yes, I mean you, Sherlock. And I’ll say it to you for as long as you let me,” John smirked, “And now tell me about your little plan you had in mind as you tried to burn the flat down.” 

Sherlock blushed and stuttered and buried his face back into the pillow, “I… well… um…” it sounded mumbled under the mop of curls. 

“Or maybe you can make it up to me by giving me a proper kiss.” John chuckled and rolled onto Sherlock, his morning wood poking Sherlock in the back, ready for new adventures. 

With a mocking rumble, Sherlock rolled onto his back, knocking John off him, to switch their positions. 

“You seem very sure of this, John.” the detective replied, rolling himself on top of John. “Yes, I am. I had a surprising but very good evening yesterday and just woke up next to a really good looking man with whom I would very much like to spend a lot more time in bed.” 

And with that Sherlock obeyed happily by kissing John. His John.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Cover | A Normal Saturday Evening](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28877199) by [allsovacant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/allsovacant/pseuds/allsovacant)




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